70 Fairy Tales

snow. He had not gone far before a
number of half-frozen hungry little birds
came fluttering round him, and Hans was
so sorry for them that he broke off and
crumbled a bit of his bread. The very last
the father saw before he disappeared into the
heart of the black trees, was a crowd of birds
flying all round him, and others sitting on
his head and shoulders. It really seemed
as if the birds had made up their minds
which way he had to go, and that he was
obliged to follow. Once or twice he stopped

and remonstrated. ‘You don’t know about
it all, little brothers,” he said. ‘I must go
and seek my fortune in the world.” But

the birds only twittered the more, and made
such a noise that Hans was fain to go the
way they wanted, and as he loved them, they
kept him from feeling lonely. While he
walked he thought often of those he had
left behind, and of what he might do for
them.

“T know what I want,’ he said to him-
self, “that is one thing. If only I could get